


For Tonight

by Mayor_Skeleton



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayor_Skeleton/pseuds/Mayor_Skeleton
Summary: A little sad diddy I wrote for my player character because I love angst
Kudos: 1





	For Tonight

Sleep was hard to come by. Whenever he closed his eyes it was a opening, an opportunity, for something unknown to make itself very, very known. The deep emptiness of space and twinkling stars, circling and coalescing tightly into each other until a shape forms. This shape grows in his mind. It grows tendril like arms and too many eyes for him to count. It hangs over his mind, it wants to be known, and then it never will be known- but the image of it forever lingers.

He feels it constricting him, twisting his body.

He feels its maw over take him.

And then Rikaas opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. He sits up from his place on one of the seats of his Caravan and looks around while he tries to breath; it’s something he doesn’t have to do...but doing it grounds him. It makes him feel normal. He sees the sleeping forms of his compatriots, his friends...and he envies them. They can sleep, maybe not soundly, but they can sleep. Rikaas can manage an hour or two at best before he feels as if he’s sinking deeper into a cold darkness and he catches a glimpse of-

Rikaas presses against his forehead with his fingers, face curling up with the slight pain of thinking of something that should not be remembered. The pain clears up after a moment, it always does, and he gets up from his place on the bench. He’ll usually idle about until the others wake up...perhaps he’ll look at the marbles they’ve collected, maybe he’ll go in the back and count what supplies they’ve had, or he could read books. He has a few books on his shelves...but none of that would help. Any of it was just to distract him until the world grew brighter and the first person began to stir. Sometimes these distractions work. Sometimes they’re not enough. Tonight, he decided, was different. Rikaas picks up his cane from where he has it leaning against the seats and carefully steps around the sleeping bodies on the caravan floor. He quietly slides open the caravan door, steps out into the darkness of the world, and he closes it behind him just as quietly. He needs to be alone.

Without the moon, the world outside was blanketed in an almost absolute darkness. Even with Rikaas’ eyes, it was hard to see past a couple of trees ahead of him. He makes a short effort of looking around for danger before finding a tree to sit under. His back hits the bark of the tree a resounding thump, sliding down it into a sitting position, and letting out a heavy sigh. He’d forgotten to breathe again.

He brings his head up after a moment, looking on at the caravan and the horses sleeping not too far from it. If he didn’t know about the horrors around them, he might’ve been able to say this was just a normal group of traveling companions. Normal. Rikaas let’s a harsh, short laugh fall from his mouth. There wasn’t a normal anymore. Normal was ripped away from everyone a year ago when a cloud of horrors descended on that city they were all in. The people who were simply lost with in it, those who had been taken away by those winged beats, and those who...Why did he have to remain? Elves are such a prevalent species, they’re scattered all over this world and there were plenty in that town when everything happened. Another one could’ve been chosen to carry this damned burden. He could be at home right now. He could be at home, safe among his people, safe with the man that he misses so dearly it almost hurts.

...A thought, something so small, crawls into the front of his mind. What if, when he finally gets to go back...he’ll be too different? Rikaas looks down at his hand, an atrocious pink in color, lightly shaking, and he feels his burning rage sink into an almost wild despair. Brutus is a good man. He’s a normal man. He’s sweet, he’s well meaning, and he has a family that he has to be there for. Rikaas...Rikaas has always been damaged. Now the cracks are just more clear. He’s been ripped in half by unseen Horrors, forced to forever have one foot in life and one foot in death. He’s been tossed around by these things that should never have to be seen by mortal minds. He’s been lovingly picked to be the stead of one of these horrors...and it almost feels good to be.

That’s what he hates the most.

He looks himself in the mirror and sees the elf that tried to trade away his life, the man that’s always hated him, and the main that willing sold his soul to the same horror Rikaas is trapped with.

Was he destined to become like him?

Was he meant to fall? To be a failure, to become a tool for these horrors, and aid in this world’s destruction?

Rikaas looks over to his cane, dropped onto the ground with less than a thought when he sat down. With a shaky hand, he grips the thing by its long body and curls his fingers tightly around it until his knuckles go white.

If they have a plan for him he’s not going to let him do it. They’re going to use him anymore. The cane clicks and whirs as mechanical compartments move in order for the barrel and the trigger of the hidden firearm to press out. He still has control now. He’s not going to let anything hurt him or hurt those who have welcomed him among them. His hands are still shaky but they find the new handle and the trigger well. The metal of the barrel feels cold and hard against his teeth and tongue. All it takes is one move. One brush with his index finger and this will all be over. No more pain, no more fear, no more crippling despair, and disappointment. He will finally be able to sleep.

“Rikaas!” A voice shouts out to him. Rikaas jumps from the shout, the barrel of his cane pointing elsewhere as his finger curls on the trigger. The shot rings out throughout the woods and nearly blows out Rikaas’ ears with how close the barrel was to him. With blurred vision he looks up at the large shape moving quickly towards him and the other shapes pushing out of the caravan. He can’t tell who it is or hear what they’re saying anymore. His ears are ringing and the world is spinning.

And then there are hands on his shoulders. Big hands. Warm hands. They shake him a little, he still can’t tell who they are, and they try to say something to him. He doesn’t respond. Those hands wrap around him and pull into an even warmer embrace. Rikaas can feel his face being pressed into their shoulder, warm, soft, and real. Finally, his mind has something to cling onto. Finally, Rikaas breaks, and he cries. He holds onto the body in front of him and sobs into their shoulder. There are others around him now, but not too close; They keep their distance with worried expressions...and that’s ok. They are more warm bodies, real warm bodies, and he can hear them trying to say things to him. That’s ok.

The night will linger on and the horrors will come; but Rikaas is safe. He’s crying out all of his fears and his desperation into the shoulder of someone holding onto him so tightly...and for now, he is ok.

They may go back into the caravan and try to talk to him, perhaps get him to eat and to drink, and that’s ok. Someone will stay up with him and keep him company while the night winds on. They do so in shifts, so while everyone get’s sleep he still isn’t alone. That’s also ok. Someone get’s him to laugh, someone get’s him talk, someone reads to him, and someone is just there for him.

For tonight, the stress may still be there, by for tonight...all will be ok


End file.
